Every Day Quotes May
by MissJayne
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles about our favourite characters. One quote per day.
1. May 1

Every Day Quotes: May

_**May 1  
**_It was so much easier to blame it on Them. It was bleakly depressing to think that They were Us. If it was Them, then nothing was anyone's fault. If it was us, what did that make Me? After all, I'm one of Us. I must be. I've certainly never thought of myself as one of Them. No one ever thinks of themselves as one of Them. We're always one of Us. It's Them that do the bad things.  
**Terry Pratchett**, _Jingo_

Timothy McGee considered himself a hacker. But while he considered the term to be a good one, acknowledging his computer prowess, most people regarded the term badly, as a criminal act.

He was not sure what to make of this. He did it for the greater good, to hurry along an investigation and to catch the criminals. He did it because another agency was withholding information, and going through the courts to force them to hand over that information was likely to take months, if they co-operated at all. He did it to save people's lives.

But could it ever be for the greater good if he was breaking the law in the process? After all, he was hacking so they could catch other people who were breaking the law. Did that make a difference? Surely him committing the same act that put others in prison could never be right.

Perhaps the law was wrong. But it could not be; he knew on one level that hacking was wrong. If he was hacking, he undoubtedly did not have a warrant to obtain the information, and that violated the spirit and almost certainly the letter of the law. If one of his friends found themselves in prison because another law enforcement agency obtained incriminated evidence by hacking, would he still feel the same way?

And yet he saved lives, by providing rapid, reliable information to his teammates. The intelligence had led them to terrorist cells, to murderers and kidnappers. Could he ever stand in front of a family and tell them their loved one was dead, but if he had hacked into somewhere there was a chance they would still be alive?

Tim simply was not sure. Maybe if he did it for the right reasons, he would have to trust that everything else would take care of itself.


	2. May 2

_**May 2  
**_The attempt and not the deed  
Confounds us.  
**William Shakespeare**** (1564 - 1616)**, _"Macbeth", Act 2 scene 2_

Jennifer Shepard considered herself good with words. She had given presentations in front of her agents and her superiors many times. She knew how to explain herself in different terms to different people. She could be persuasive, tempting, corrupting, manipulative and believable.

But there was one thing she could definitely work out how to say, however much she could never pluck up the courage to attempt it. The act itself was not a problem. She wanted to tell a man she loved him. The problem came about in finding the way in which to say it.

For starters, he would not believe her. She had a thousand ways to plead with him that she had made a mistake and was sorry, that she would do anything to make it up to him. But she simply did not know how he would react and this upset her. She could handle it if he accepted her apology and agreed he loved her too. She could perhaps handle it if he told her to go to hell and never bother him again. However, without a doubt, she would never survive if he decided to end their already fragile friendship.

Perhaps one day she would find it within herself to attempt it. Perhaps one day soon she would become frustrated enough with their current relationship and find the courage to ask him to change it. But when she did, she knew everything would change.

And maybe it was _that_ that scared her most of all.


	3. May 3

_**May 3  
**_Education: that which reveals to the wise, and conceals from the stupid, the vast limits of their knowledge.  
**Mark Twain**** (1835 - 1910)**

Ducky knew it was always possible and preferable to learn new things. He considered it almost an adventure – pushing the limits of his knowledge and constantly understanding new concepts.

He was settled in his living room, nestled deep in an armchair with his feet up, a glass of scotch by his side and a good book. A fire merrily crackled away in the heath, making the room a touch too hot now that summer was near. But he enjoyed his evening fires and would keep them until the heat became unbearable.

His current book had been borrowed from his local library. Ducky had decided it was high time to start going through the twentieth century history section, despite it being overpopulated with books about the Nazis. While he understood the importance of studying World War II and the rise of fascism, sometimes he felt there were too many books on this subject at the detriment of others.

One of the corgis started snoring at his feet as he picked up his book. It was a thin book, but it had caught his attention on the shelf. Discovering more about the rise of Mussolini would greatly interest him. He could recall learning so much about Italian fascism and the role this played in the war, but he wasn't sure how the Italians had ended up with Mussolini in the first place.

He took a long sip of his scotch and leant back in his seat, opening the book and beginning the journey to knowledge again.


	4. May 4

_**May 4  
**_Subdue your appetites, my dears, and you've conquered human nature.  
**Charles Dickens**** (1812 - 1870)**

"That is disgusting."

"How?"

"Jeez, Tony. Did your mother never teach you to keep your mouth closed while eating?"

"You asked a question, you were expecting an answer."

"You could have waited to swallow first."

Timothy McGee continued to stare at Tony in horror as the older man wolfed down a pizza as though he hadn't eaten in a week. Which Tim knew to be completely untrue – he'd watched Tony eat lunch (and breakfast).

He couldn't understand how Tony could eat so much rubbish and not balloon. The man was a human garbage disposal unit; he couldn't remember the last time Tony had turned down food.

Now that he thought about it, he could, but that was because Tony had collapsed five minutes later and turned out to have an especially virulent strain of the flu.

Which half the Navy Yard had promptly come down with.

Tim continued to stare at it. "It's just… The pizza's so big."

"And? I'm hungry." Tony didn't seem bothered by this.

"Well, Ziva and I couldn't eat that thing between us."

Tony scrunched up his forehead. "Have you tried?"

"The Havre stakeout last week. We shared one, and you finished the rest when you and Gibbs arrived to swap shifts. You don't remember?"

"Oh, the chicken one? That was amazing. Can't understand why you didn't finish it."

Tim shook his head in shock. Nothing he said would get through to Tony.


	5. May 5

_**May 5  
**_It isn't kind to cultivate a friendship just so one will have an audience.  
**Lawana Blackwell**, _The Courtship of the Vicar's Daughter, 1998_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs pulled up the final weed and leant back on his heels to survey the patch. Looking good.

The sun forced its way out from behind a cloud and shone on his garden for the first time that morning. It illuminated the blossoming flowers, the green grass of his back yard and the now bare patch of earth in front of him. He glanced up and watched as a few small white clouds skittered across the sky. Maybe the temperature would rise soon.

His back door opened and he smiled to himself, not needing to turn around to know who it was. Jenny placed a newly-opened beer by his side and stared at the patch.

"What's next, Jethro?"

He jerked his head at the tiny rose bush she had brought over a few hours ago, a rose bush that would eventually grow to fill the space he had just cleared for it. "Digging a hole."

"Something you've had a lot of practice with," she teased, taking a sip of her own beer before kneeling next to him. "If you want cheap manual labor, I'm sure your team will be happy to help."

He grunted, unwilling to allow his team anywhere near his back yard and secretly enjoying his gardening. Not to mention he had Jenny to hand if there was a job requiring extra hands.

She picked up the trowel and started clearing a hole for the rose bush to go in. He observed her actions as the sun danced in her hair, and realized there was nowhere else he'd rather be.


	6. May 6

_**May 6  
**_Even the most dangerous look less threatening when they are dead.  
**Laura Moncur**, _Merriton, 07-09-08_

Ziva David had killed a lot of men. Enough that she did not remember all their names, although she suspected that might be in part because she did not _wish_ to recall their names.

She had experienced a lot in her short life, far more than most people did in eighty years. She had fought people physically and mentally, been shot, shot at people, been in numerous vehicle chases (including ones involving tanks), run for her life, chased suspects on foot for miles, and generally caused mayhem across the world. She had threatened and been threatened.

It took quite a bit to scare her nowadays. It was hard to be afraid of someone when you had killed far more dangerous people and noted how everyone became the same in death. Unthreatening. Peaceful. Sometimes she added a few extra bullets to a body to be certain of death, not wanting to run the risk that someone who had scared her was still breathing.

And yet she was still inordinately nervous around one man in her life. Gibbs. Despite her having known (and killed) far more dangerous and terrifying men, she continued to find her boss threatening. He could scare her with a mere look. When he growled, she jumped. She did whatever he asked of her, however difficult it was, because she knew it would be far worse if she refused or failed.

And deep down, she adored him as the father she had never had. It was an odd dichotomy, but somehow it worked for them both and she was unwilling to change it.


	7. May 7

_**May 7  
**_When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it-always.  
**Mahatma Gandhi (1869 - 1948)**

"Why is there so much evil in the world?"

Abby Scuito hugged Bert to herself, unable to resist the slight smile that rose on her lips when he farted, despite the dark subject she had raised with Ducky. It was late at night in her lab, and the two scientists were waiting for Major Mass Spec to deduce the chemical make-up of whatever poison had killed Petty Officer Singh. It was never as easy as television made it look, and she would have to examine the fragmentation pattern and determine in her head, without the help of a fancy computer program, exactly which chemical had fragmented in this manner.

Ducky patted her arm, aware she did not wish to be drawn into a hug while she was already hugging Bert. "It is true that there is evil around us," he conceded. "But when you look at history, good tends to triumph in the long run. Dictatorships are overthrown, people come to realize that they can make a difference, and even great empires fall by the wayside."

"Are you going to quote Ziva's favorite quote to me?" Abby wondered, already feeling better.

"I am sure you know it well enough, my dear," he assured her. "I simply wish to point to history and remind you that nothing lasts forever, that peace and love always win through in the end."

Abby smiled. Perhaps she was surrounded by evil in her line of work, but Ducky was right. One day, they would prevail.


	8. May 8

_**May 8  
**_Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others.  
**Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894)**

Tony DiNozzo flashed his most dazzling smile at the ER nurse. He didn't really need to be here anyway.

It was all Ziva's fault. After some mild teasing on his part, she had taken umbrage at something or other and shoved him into a wall. Unfortunately for him, they had been in an alley at the time and a random huge nail shoved into the wall had nicked his arm. Upon their return to the Navy Yard, Gibbs had ordered him to get it checked out 'and not by a medical examiner'.

Tony really didn't see the issue. It hadn't done any lasting damage except to his jacket, and being stuck at the ER meant less time to harass Ziva into buying him a new one. Okay, the wound gaped a little and had bled, and it still ached slightly, but he didn't need to miss out on the culmination of a week's work when Gibbs went to arrest the suspect.

Even if Meagan, the nurse, was extremely cute.

"Just a tetanus shot and then you can go," she informed him, a soft smile on her face. Clearly the DiNozzo magic was weaving its spell.

Wait. "Shot? With a needle?"

She nodded. "There were a few flecks of rust around the cut, so we want to play it safe."

"I'm fine," Tony told her, reached for his now-damaged jacket. "I can see myself out."

"You really need the shot," she continued. "You missed your last one six months ago and you really don't want to come down with something. Are you afraid of needles?"

"Not at all," Tony denied. "My boss needs me back at work as soon as possible so I'll be going now –"

The smile was gone from her face as Meagan blocked the door. "What do I have to do to persuade you to have this shot?"

"Seriously? I'd rather face my boss without coffee on a Monday morning."

She began to smile dangerously. "Then I'm sure you won't mind if I call him while you drive back to work…"


	9. May 9

_**May 9  
**_I don't want someone shoving his views down my throat, unless they're covered in a crunchy candy shell.  
**Stephen Colbert**, _The Colbert Report, May 2, 2006_

"Oh my…"

"I know."

"Where did you get these?"

Jennifer Shepard smiled. "There's a little chocolate shop hidden in a back street. You remember when we went to that flea market?"

Ziva nodded, curled up on the other couch in Jenny's office. "Oh, the one that was squeezed between two bigger buildings?"

"Exactly." Jenny nodded sagely. "They do the best chocolates I've ever tasted. Except for a chocolatier in Paris, but he doesn't do mail order."

"When is your next security conference in France?" Ziva inquired, an innocent expression on her face. "I am sure I could persuade Gibbs that I would be an excellent temporary addition to your detail while you are overseas."

Jenny smirked.

"Where are you keeping them, anyway?" the Israeli continued. "You must have a collection in here; I know you like to keep your chocolate close."

"My lips are sealed," Jenny answered.

Ziva stared at her in confusion. "No, they are not."

"It means – I'm not telling you," Jenny translated.

"Oh." Ziva leant back on the couch again and popped another chocolate into her mouth. "Mmm. Why not?"

"Because I don't want Jethro finding them."

"Why would I tell him?"

"He has ways of making people talk."

Ziva summoned her Mossad training and glared at the redhead. "Where are they? I shall search your entire office for them if you do not tell me."

Jenny shook her head. "No."

The Israeli smirked slightly, before throwing one of the precious chocolates at Jenny.

The redhead narrowed her eyes. This was war.


	10. May 10

_**May 10  
**_A technical objection is the first refuge of a scoundrel.  
**Heywood Broun (1888 - 1939)**, _''Jam-Tomorrow' Progressives,' New Republic, December 15, 1937_

Timothy McGee worked in a very strange environment.

Even if he ignored working as part of a team with an ex-sniper, a clown and a Mossad assassin. Not many people had such varied co-workers.

In other jobs, he had rapidly realized his opinion was either encouraged or completely discarded. There was no in-between. Yet as a field agent attached to Agent Gibbs' team, he was expected to speak his mind, however often he ended up following someone else's orders at the end of the day.

And not only was he supposed to tell everyone his ideas, they would actually listen to him and change their plans accordingly if they agreed with them.

It was the strangest experience of his life.

What surprised him the most, however, was that despite Gibbs and Tony's crazy ideas that he inevitably ended up objecting to on so many terms it was almost untrue, the plan tended to work. Whether it involved the lead negotiator in a hostage situation deliberately walking into the middle of said hostage situation, or using a dead body to drive a car, things had a habit of working.

It bemused him. It confused him. And perhaps it was one of the reasons he stuck around, to watch insane ideas work and to learn not to object to something out of hand.


	11. May 11

_**May 11  
**_The company of just and righteous men is better than wealth and a rich estate.  
**Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC)**, _Aegeus_

The embers glowed in the hearth as Jennifer Shepard stared at the soft glow they emitted. The redhead was sitting in her study, lost in thought.

Her townhouse was empty and silent. It was a house rather than a home, a place she returned to at the end of the day only to bring more work with her and to sleep in the chair in her study more often than she slept in her bed. It was an extension of her workplace in more ways than one.

At work, she was alone, aloof, the Director of the agency and unable and not permitted to form friendships with her employees. Even Cynthia, who she supposed she could call a confidant, was still an employee and there was so much she was unable to voice. At the end of the day, her assistant went one way and she went another, back to her lonely, cold house.

She longed for company. She had drifted apart from all her old friends, but not until after they had filled their homes with the pitter-patter of tiny feet and the laughter of children. Her ambition had driven her, encouraged her to make decisions and leave people in her wake, making her believe she would find happiness if she just pushed a little bit more.

But she was exactly where she wanted to be and she had nothing to show for it. Nothing except an empty house and a life full of work.


	12. May 12

_**May 12  
**_If we say a little it is easy to add, but having said too much it is hard to withdraw and never can it be done so quickly as to hinder the harm of our success.  
**Saint Francis de Sales (1567 - 1622)**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not like speaking. Speaking was akin to putting his thoughts in writing, and that would never do.

He did not need to express his views in words to make himself understood. His agents learnt soon enough what he wanted, and if they didn't, they wouldn't last long on his team anyway. He couldn't teach his team to anticipate if he was constantly debating with them whatever they needed to do next. He spoke when he needed to and stayed silent the rest of the time, and it worked for him.

Tony had once called him a functional mute behind his back. Resisting the urge to headslap him into next week and thus admit he had overheard the comment, he privately agreed with it. Saying very little meant he never put his foot in his mouth, unlike DiNozzo who managed it on a regular basis. It meant he did not tell the world everything; he kept part of himself back, a private part that no one needed to see.

His team were oddly okay with him saying little. In fact, they tended to worry when he spoke up, probably because he was usually either yelling or issuing orders. Only Abby and Ducky loved it when he spoke to them, because he didn't need to boss them around. Abby especially knew how to make him smile and loved to draw his lips upwards.

Gibbs enjoyed living in silence. Sometimes there was no need for words.


	13. May 13

_**May 13  
**_All formal dogmatic religions are fallacious and must never be accepted by self-respecting persons as final.  
**Hypatia of Alexandria (370 AD - 415 AD)**

Abby Scuito knew better than most that science did not necessarily give a person all of the answers.

Science could be used to pose a question, but very often it answered by throwing up further questions. One example that she ran into every day was the presumptive test for blood. Agents carried it to crime scenes to test for the presence of blood, and while most people would argue this proved blood and had therefore answered the question, Abby knew it to be wrong. It merely said that blood _might_ be present, but it didn't say whether this blood was human or animal. And the presumptive test for semen also reacted if it came into contact with cauliflower.

The Goth loved science. Despite what she said, it could provide answers and it did every day. It was just that care had to be taken with the results it gave. Science itself could not be wrong, only the interpretation.

The most important thing in her opinion was to keep an open mind, to not look at results expecting to see something and then glossing over anything that did not appear to fit. An answer had to encompass everything; the evidence should never be made to fit it.

Science was her world, but she knew to respect it.


	14. May 14

_**May 14  
**_To sway an audience, you must watch them as you speak.  
**C. Kent Wright**

Timothy McGee was not a confident person. He had never been one, and it did not help that he now worked with three supremely confident individuals, all of whom were happy to take control.

Sometimes it was necessary to fade into the background for the good of the team.

But tonight he was going to try his hand at speaking in public. At a poetry recital.

He was extremely nervous. He would have been more comfortable giving a reading from _Deep Six_ in the guise of Thom E. Gemcity, as at least he would have something of a cloak around him. But this was going to be an appearance as Tim McGee, a very anxious, tense man.

However, he was not alone. His teammates had rallied around him and were sitting somewhere in the audience. Upon learning of his evening plans, Abby and Ziva had insisted on coming along to support him. From them, Ducky had heard of it and politely invited himself as well. Palmer had blabbed to Tony, so the Italian had grinned like a fool and promised to be present, and Tim was hoping he would be on his best behavior as Ziva could keep him in line.

Rumor had it that even Gibbs would make an appearance to support his agent.

Tim smiled to himself as he waited for his turn. Although the support could not calm the butterflies in his stomach, it was making him feel more confident.


	15. May 15

_**May 15  
**_A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.  
**Josh Billings (1818 - 1885)**

Abby Scuito beamed as she walked through the park, arm in arm with her current favorite person.

She and Timmy had a regular standing date to walk Jethro the dog together every Sunday, as long as they weren't knee deep in a case of course. She had come fresh from church, a bag of special doggy treats tucked in her coat, and now they strolled through the beautiful park on a beautiful day.

The sun was shining high in the sky on the glistening grass, a few daisies poking through and begging to be made into a daisy chain. She wondered what Timmy would think if she made one and asked him to wear it. There was a small lake in the centre of the park, where ducks liked to swim and wait for their food, and Jethro liked to join them in swimming.

Families were in the park too, mommies and daddies with their broods of little children. Toddlers took shaky steps and tried to escape from under watchful eyes. Older children rode bikes and played soccer. Dogs mainly stayed close to their owners, but occasionally ventured over to one another to sniff the competition.

Abby loved her Sunday routine. There was no one else she would rather share it with.


	16. May 16

_**May 16  
**_When a dog bites a man, that is not news, because it happens so often. But if a man bites a dog, that is news.  
**John B. Bogart (1848 - 1921)**

Sometimes, Jennifer Shepard wondered why she bothered. The same dance happened every week or so and it would never change.

"I don't know why I bother cleaning up your messes, Jethro. You broke his nose! How am I supposed to fix that?" She paced back and forth, trying to control her temper. "Why am I not surprised? Assaulting members of the media is practically one of your precious Rules."

Gibbs cleared his throat; she glared at him.

"Speak," she ordered.

"McGee."

"McGee what?"

"McGee broke his nose, not me."

She stopped pacing and stared at him as though he'd grown another head. "McGee. McGee? Timothy McGee who looks less scary than a fly and probably spends all his spare time helping elderly people cross the road? That McGee?"

"Uh huh."

"Is this backwards day or something?" Jenny demanded. "Since when does _McGee_ hit reporters?"

"Since Abby was at the scene and the jerk tried to look up her skirt."

Jenny stared at him again. "And you _didn't_ break his legs?"

"McGee was doing a fine job defending her honor. I'll get him when he leaves the hospital."

Jenny sighed. "Just this once, you're off the hook. Tell McGee to come to my office and I'll pretend to shout at him for an hour. That will solve that. And then I'll do damage control."

She watched as he left her office in his usual rush. What was the world coming to? She had half a mind to go after the reporter herself. No one upset the favorite and lived.


	17. May 17

_**May 17  
**_The most onerous slavery is to be a slave to oneself.  
**Seneca (5 BC - 65 AD)**

Ducky could think of plenty of words to describe a certain Gothic forensic scientist he worked with, and one of them was most definitely 'free'.

It was not the type of freedom that meant she had no ties to anyone. Abigail had plenty of connections to plenty of people and she was not the type of person who could abandon them all and disappear on a whim, never to see or talk to them again. It was not a freedom that meant she would never have to work again, a financial freedom to do whatever she wanted.

It was simply that she was completely herself and did not allow herself to be influenced by someone.

If she wished to do something, she would do it, whether it involved a night out or telling someone what she really thought of them. She did not allow other people to hold her back, yet she remained firm friends with almost everyone she ever met.

She did not allow herself to become a slave to anyone. If someone asked her to do something she did not wish to do, she would turn them down with a smile and either offer to find someone else who would do it or ask to help with something else. While she was influenced by some people, she did not allow herself to _be_ influenced, a a rare thing in today's society.

Abigail was certainly a very special, unique person.


	18. May 18

_**May 18  
**_If you want to lift yourself up, lift up someone else.  
**Booker T. Washington (1856 - 1915)**

It was not every day that Ziva David found herself trying to give her partner a boost to get him over a wall. Certainly not a wall that she could have climbed when she was eight, a wall that any child should have been able to clamber over easily. Why did Tony have to struggle with a ten foot high wall?

"You weigh too much," she complained.

From his perch on her shoulders, she could not see his glare but she knew it was there. "Are you calling me fat?"

"I am calling you heavy," she corrected. "If Gibbs was with you, he would have left you behind."

"No he wouldn't," Tony scoffed. "It's a marine thing; never leave a man behind. Actually I'm sure it's a Rule."

"He would kick your butt for being unable to get over this wall," she pointed out.

"Less talking, more pushing," he ordered.

"Bite me."

"Oh!" Tony exclaimed. "Fancypants David! Who taught you that?"

"Abby."

"I might have guessed."

"Shut up and climb."

He made another attempt to get over the wall and failed completely. "Well, when you bite me," he teased, "don't leave a mark somewhere McGee will see if you want to avoid questions."

She felt like collapsing with his weight on top of her. "You really think I will bite you in _that_ manner?"

"Whatever floats your boat," he retorted.

"What boat?"

"Never mind."

"A boat is not going to get you over this wall. Perhaps a crane would."

"Shut up and push!"


	19. May 19

_**May 19  
**_Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.  
**Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862)**

There was nothing in the world that Leroy Jethro Gibbs loved more than the truth.

The truth changed everything forever. Money and fame were only fleeting fancies; a person could spend a lifetime chasing after it and never come close. But to come close to truth, to hold it in a hand was the most amazing experience he could think of.

The truth was elusive and it was his job to locate it. Sometimes he considered his job to be more about finding the truth than it was to find justice for someone. Justice could be circumvented in so many different ways, whether by a good lawyer or someone fleeing the country. But the truth was something he could definitely attain for a family, the truth about what happened to a loved one. Even if justice was not possible for whatever reason, knowing the truth about what happened was often enough.

Truth was something that could never be taken away once it was learned. There was no escaping it; even the most hardened criminal felt the urge to tell the truth and confess all at some stage. It was the gold standard he aspired to, to discover the truth in every case he investigated.

Someone had once said 'The truth will set you free'. Leroy Jethro Gibbs believed this.


	20. May 20

_**May 20  
**_Sometimes love will pick you up by the short hairs... and jerk the heck out of you.  
**Denise Dobbs**, _Northern Exposure, Survival of the Species, 1993_

Tony DiNozzo was in a foul mood as he entered the squad room, slamming his rucksack on his desk and collapsing into his chair. It wasn't his fault the night before had gone so badly, not in the slightest.

His sadistic partner threw a paperclip at him, hitting the centre of his forehead without any effort on her part. She giggled as he glared at her.

"What is wrong?" she demanded. "Did you get out of the wrong side of your bed?"

"Get up on," McGee corrected from his desk. Ziva shot him a quick smile to thank him for assisting with her idioms. Tony frowned. If he had said that, she would be leaping down this throat.

"Perhaps your date did not go well last night," Ziva suggested, her attention now back on him. "Did your new girlfriend turn out to be a he?"

Tony silently cursed Abby and McGee for ever telling the Israeli about that particular case. "I always dump them when it turns out they have a husband," he reminded them.

"Oh, she was _married_," Ziva squealed in delight, if such a thing was possible for his ninja. McGee was giggling like a schoolgirl at his desk. "No wonder you are in a bad mood."

He glared at her, having now realized telling his co-workers was not his best idea. They would tease him for the rest of the day now, whereas if he'd kept his mouth shut, they would have forgotten about it by lunch.

"So, did you meet the husband?" Ziva began gleefully.


	21. May 21

_**May 21  
**_Anyone who has gumption knows what it is, and anyone who hasn't can never know what it is. So there is no need of defining it.  
**L. M. Montgomery (1874 - 1942)**, _Anne of the Island, 1915_

Ducky watched as Mr. Palmer carried the samples out of Autopsy and towards the elevator. Next to him, Jethro stood in characteristic silence as they waited for the younger man to leave.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, they sprang into action. Jethro doubled checked that the coast was clear, peering out of the Autopsy doors to ensure someone had not snuck off the elevator and could observe them. Then the agent flicked the overhead lights off so that hopefully any passer-by would assume the room was empty.

Ducky had not delayed. He had hurried to the glass cabinet by his desk, opened the doors, and knelt down so he could reach the very bottom shelf. He gently shifted a few glass containers full of chemicals to one side, careful not to make any noise that could give them away. He ran his fingers along the row of books this action had displayed, pulling three hefty tomes forwards to expose another book concealed behind them.

Aware they were running out of time and unsure how long Abigail could keep Mr. Palmer occupied, the two men gathered around Ducky's desk and frantically began flipping through the pages. Jethro reached over and flicked on the desk lamp to illuminate their search.

"Got it!"

Ducky ran his finger along from the word to the explanation and quickly memorized it. Time to hide the dictionary again.


	22. May 22

_**May 22  
**_The worst is not  
So long as we can say, "This is the worst."  
**William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)**, _"King Lear", Act 4 scene 1_

Ziva David smiled happily as she guided her friends through the crowd. Abby had insisted on linking arms, and neither Ziva nor McGee had been able to refuse her. So they strolled across the grass as one.

This had not been one person's idea. Abby had spotted the advertisement, McGee had mentioned he was interested, and Ziva had suggested the three of them attend together. Who could resist an evening performance of King Lear in the open air?

They were in Rock Creek Park, excited about the opportunity to watch a Shakespearian play in the great outdoors. Ziva simply loved the fresh air. McGee thought it would enhance the work and Abby was hoping for an atmosphere of some sort (Ziva had not quite understood). But Shakespeare was understood in any language, by people across the world.

She glanced up at the sky as they walked. Despite the weather forecaster promising no rain, Ziva knew better than to take them at their word and checked for the warning signs herself. It looked clear; this should be an excellent night, if a little chilly.

They found a spot on the grass, McGee placing a few blankets on the ground to keep their clothes clean. As the sun set, they huddled together and waited for the drama to begin.


	23. May 23

_**May 23  
**_The first rule of life is to reveal nothing, to be exceptionally cautious in what you say, in whatever company you may find yourself. If you have a secret, you have only to whisper it to your dearest friend with the strictest injunction that it will go no further, and within half a day the story is all over town, and when you do make what would seem to be a perfectly sensible remark, you will find it reported in the most grotesque form, thus incurring no end of criticism to rebound upon you.  
**Elizabeth Aston**, _The Darcy Connection, 2008_

Jennifer Shepard was used to assisting her Israeli friend in adapting to life in another country. While making sure no one else discovered their secret, they spent more girly nights together than most people would guess.

The redhead was not simply helping her friend to understand American customs. Some of Gibbs' Rules could be complicated at the best of times. Today, Ziva had been informed of Rule Four by McGee and she had become confused.

"Why would I want to tell a secret anyway?" Ziva wondered, as they sat on the couches in Jenny's office.

"That's the whole point of a secret," Jenny agreed. "But the Rule says if you need to tell someone, make sure it's only one."

"Why would I need to tell anyone?" Ziva questioned.

"Sometimes," Jenny suggested. "Perhaps when you need help."

Ziva huffed.

"For example, you might tell Tony something because you need his assistance."

"Tony could not keep a secret if his life depended on it," the Israeli scoffed.

"I think he could surprise you," Jenny pointed out gently. "The third part of the Rule states that telling yet another person is not an option if you want whatever it is to remain a secret."

"I understand that part," Ziva nodded. "If you inform too many people, it is no longer a secret. But I do not understand why you are allowed to tell one person. It cannot work."

"That's why it's considered _second best_ and is only allowed _if you must_," Jenny explained. "It's allowed only if you absolutely have to tell someone."

"It makes no sense," Ziva complained.

Jenny shook her head softly. Perhaps this was one of those Rules that made more sense once an agent had been in a relevant situation.


	24. May 24

_**May 24  
**_I'm an experienced woman; I've been around...  
well, alright, I might not've been around, but I've been... nearby.  
**Mary Tyler Moore (1936 - )**, _Mary Richards (Mary Tyler Moore Show)_

Abby Scuito grinned to herself as she heard the familiar _ding _of the elevator. Tony was back!

It had been a slow day for Team Gibbs, and Tony had somehow managed to persuade _el jefe _to allow him to spend time with her. She privately suspected it had a little to do with her rant three days ago to Gibbs in which she informed him exactly how lonely she was in her lab at the moment, and it appeared her silver haired fox had come through yet again.

She spent so much time borrowing Timmy from Gibbs, and spending the odd girly night with Ziva, that Tony often seemed to pass her by. She did not like this – he was special in his own way, like everyone else she knew, and he could be relied on to put a smile on her face. They were like two kids together, giggling away and causing mayhem.

"I've got a question for you," he informed her, dropping the paperwork Gibbs had assigned him on her desk and drawing up a chair.

"Go on," she grinned, looking up from her computer.

"How many guys have you been with?"

"Tony!" she protested. "A lady never tells."

"That's a gentleman," he corrected her.

"Still," she pointed out.

"Come on. I bet you've told Ziva."

"That's different. She's female. You're not. Women do not have certain discussions with men."

"Why not?" he grinned.

"Because I can set Ziva on you," she threatened.

He sighed as he dropped his line of inquiry.

"Is there a reason you're asking, Agent DiNozzo?" she teased.

"Maybe," he answered. "But there are some things men can't discuss with women."

She punched his arm in response. She would pry it out of him by the end of the day.


	25. May 25

_**May 25  
**_I have not slept one wink.  
**William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)**, _"Cymbeline", Act 3 scene 4_

Timothy McGee hated insomnia.

He didn't understand how it was possible for him to suffer from it. Okay, he saw horrific things that would traumatize anyone, and he despaired for the future of the human race at times, but usually he didn't have a problem. Most of the time, he was so exhausted from doing whatever Gibbs ordered and working his insane hours that he would fall asleep the moment his head touched the pillow (or his desk, or the back of his chair…)

It was not as though he'd had a quiet week either. Two kidnappings, a triple homicide and a terrorist cell had all been dealt with in the last week. His brain was exhausted from all the clandestine hacking he had been doing, from interviews with witnesses and suspects, and from attempting to determine and follow a line of investigation. Not to mention all the overtime he would be putting in for after Gibbs had demanded their presence at zero seven hundred every morning and sent them home after midnight.

His body ached all over. He had barely managed to walk from his car to his apartment, let alone his apartment door to his bed. Anyone else would have lost consciousness hours ago. But for some insane reason, he could not fall asleep.

He sighed as he reached for his phone. At least he was relatively confident Abby would be awake as well. With all the caffeine she drank, it was a wonder she ever slept. Perhaps talking to the Goth would slow his mind down enough to allow him to sleep.


	26. May 26

_**May 26  
**_That's it baby, when you got it, flaunt it.  
**Mel Brooks (1926 - )**, _The Producers (1968)_

Tony DiNozzo stared at his partner, well aware if she realized where his eyes were she would happily gouge them out with a pen.

Their suspect was a womanizer, and Gibbs had decided it was time to allow Ziva to go undercover and persuade him to talk. On a rational level, Tony knew why his partner had to do it; she was the only female on the team. But the dress she was wearing had to be illegal in all fifty states.

It was cut almost obscenely low at the front, hinting at the delights under the tops she wore every day, and showing the world she could not be wearing a bra. The long length of the red dress appeared more demure, but the slit to mid-thigh exposing one creamy leg put paid to that thought. The back of the dress was non-existent.

To top it off, she and Abby had spent an inordinate amount of time in the Goth's lab dealing with hair and make-up and whatnot. Ziva simply looked stunning.

He couldn't take his eyes off her and suspected as soon as his partner left the building, Gibbs would headslap him so hard his grandchildren would feel it, but it would be worthwhile. Was it possible to take a photo without Ziva realizing? Hmm…


	27. May 27

_**May 27  
**_A runner's creed: I will win; if I cannot win, I shall be second; if I cannot be second, I shall be third; if I cannot place at all, I shall still do my best.  
**Ken Doherty**

Ziva David waited until Gibbs was safely on the elevator in search of his next caffeine fix before she spoke up to her remaining co-workers.

"I think we should run a marathon together," she announced.

Tony stared at her in horror. "Tell me this is a joke. Or a dream."

McGee ignored the ex-cop. "What, together? I'm not sure I could run a whole marathon."

"We will have plenty of time to train," Ziva smiled. "We can pick one that is a few months away. And anyway, we should be fairly fit for our jobs so it is not like we are starting from scratch." She made sure to glare at Tony, whose idea of physical exercise involved walking to his car.

"A marathon would kill me!" Tony protested.

"I have to admit, Ziva, you would leave us eating dust," McGee added.

She was confused. "Eating dust? I would not ask you to eat dust. You need to eat extra carbohydrates, but I do not see where dust comes into this."

"We're not going to win," Tony argued, completely ignoring her question. "What's the point in running a marathon if we're not going to win?"

"That is not the point," she countered. "It is the taking part that counts. Now, who is in?"

"I'll help with training," Gibbs announced, strolling back through the bull pen.

"You were not gone long," Ziva noted.

"Forget your wallet again, Boss?" Tony suggested.

Gibbs gave him a glare as he left the squad room again.

"So," Ziva continued. "Now that that is settled…"


	28. May 28

_**May 28  
**_You can always tell you're in trouble when the good option involves a prosthetic leg.  
**Hugh Elliott**, _Standing Room Only weblog, November 5, 2003_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had brought in many suspects in his long and sterling career as an NCIS Special Agent. Despite what DiNozzo had seemed to think when he had left the squad room earlier, he was perfectly capable of bringing in a weedy junkie.

As far as they knew, the guy did not even own a gun, and even if he did, Gibbs doubted he had the muscles to pull the trigger. This was going to be easy, so easy he should have sent McGee to get some practice.

He knocked on the door to the apartment, noting that it was slightly ajar and drawing his gun just in case. It would never do if he ended up getting shot for making a probie mistake; he would never live it down.

"Fitzgerald! Federal agent. Get out here now!" he ordered while still outside the door. Then he pushed it open and made his way inside.

Something heavy smacked down on his skull. Yelling in pain, he whirled around to catch his attacker off guard and knock his legs out from under him. Oh, that hurt.

"Fitzgerald. You're under arrest for assaulting a federal agent."

When he got back to the Navy Yard, he was going to kill DiNozzo for not telling him about the prosthetic leg.


	29. May 29

_**May 29  
**_The secret of a good life is to have the right loyalties and to hold them in the right scale of values.  
**Norman Thomas (1884 - 1968)**

Tony DiNozzo ducked as the drug dealer threw a set of old-fashioned scales at his head. What was it this week with suspects throwing objects at agents' heads?

Two steps away from the dealer, Ziva tackled their suspect to the floor, probably getting a few good digs in that he couldn't see in revenge for the unprovoked attack on him. Sometimes it was nice to be partnered with a Mossad ninja.

And then he realized she would happily have thrown the scales at him herself, and decided he'd rather have McGee. There was less chance of a sudden, painful and mysterious death for one.

What was the world coming to when suspects assaulted cops and thought they could get away with it? This suspect had just made a massive mistake. Once Ziva was done with him, Tony would get his turn and then Gibbs would glare him into submission and make him rue the day he'd been born.

He wasn't even sure how he'd annoyed the drug dealer enough to make him utilize household items as missiles, but he was now the prime suspect in a murder investigation, so as he hadn't been hit, it was fine by him.

Ziva dragged their now compliant suspect off the floor and headed for the door. "Coming?" she asked.

He followed her out, staring at her butt. "After you."


	30. May 30

_**May 30  
**_The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it.  
**Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121 AD - 180 AD)**, _Meditations_

Ducky had seen a lot of change in his life. Some changes were big while others were small.

People's reactions to change often interested him far more than the change itself. Nowadays, a lot of changes seemed to be made for the sake of change, which meant he was quietly confident everything would alter in a few months and he could simply carry on doing whatever he had been doing in exactly the same manner as before.

Most people did not like these kinds of changes. They recognized that there was no real reason behind them and rightly protested and being inconvenienced on the word of someone who did not know the situation on the ground.

He much preferred changes that occurred because something needed to be altered. Those kind of changes were often easier for most people to accept, as they could see what the problem was and tended to agree that something needed fixing. Unfortunately, due to a society that often changed things for no reason, people had come to regard any change as a bad thing. It was now harder to alter something that desperately needed to be dealt with.

Perhaps the lesson he focused on was that most changes went in a circle. In a few years, almost all the changes would lead directly back to where he was now. And the ones that didn't were the ones that truly needed changing.


	31. May 31

_**May 31  
**_Your descendants shall gather your fruits.  
**Virgil (70 BC - 19 BC)**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stared at the photo with a soft smile on his lips.

It was rare that he was able to look at a photo of Kelly without feeling the deep ache of her loss. He missed her every day; he missed her jumping on his bed to wake him up, her giggles as she moved around the house, and tucking her into bed at night and telling her a story.

In the last few years, his memories of her had slowly but surely become less painful. He could remember her without wanting to cry. The smile she gave him in his mind's eye made him smile too. Her laughter cheered him. The memories were not fading but perhaps he had accepted she was at peace.

He knew it would never be easy. No parent was supposed to outlive their child. Sometimes he had wondered what his life would have been like if only Kelly had died, if he had not lost Shannon at the same time and they had mourned together. Would it have drawn them even closer together? Would it have torn them apart?

In the photo, Kelly's wide grin began to match his own. His little girl would always have his heart.


End file.
